


frozen memories (that come to thaw)

by krystian



Series: Unfamiliar Cadence [5]
Category: Code Vein (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Gender-Neutral Protagonist (Code Vein), Hypothermia, Literal Sleeping Together, POV Second Person, Ridge of Frozen Souls, Spoilers, but i did my research so its fine, never had hypothermia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23379979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krystian/pseuds/krystian
Summary: Sometimes, you make really stupid decisions.Like exploring the Ridge of Frozen Souls all on your own, and subsequently getting lost.You've really got all the luck.
Relationships: Io & Protagonist (Code Vein)
Series: Unfamiliar Cadence [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1668760
Comments: 3
Kudos: 35





	frozen memories (that come to thaw)

**Author's Note:**

> heya, it's me. I can't stop writing for code vein - maybe it's cause i'm so disappointed by the dlc or gift mastery. 
> 
> title is once again taken from Eva's [All of You](https://youtu.be/-PLOXPJ92r0), but the work itself was inspired by Oliver Tree's [Hurt](https://youtu.be/4IgQLoLqp3A)

This had been a very bad idea.

Belatedly you realize that you’ve got no idea as to where you actually are.

Sure, you have the map of the surrounding area, but everything looks kind of the same on there, and whenever you look up from it, the white blinds you momentarily, only serving to disorientate you even more. 

Normally, your companion would be right behind you, giving you tips, a nudge in the right direction or simply chatting with you. Of course that wasn’t the case today. Right now, it seems like a pretty stupid idea not having taken anyone with you on this excursion.

You sigh, pulling your blood veil a little tighter around you to keep the cold at bay. It doesn’t do much, though – the fabric is too thin for that. Every time you breathe out through your mask, little white clouds form in front of your face before disappearing into nothingness.

It will all be fine once you find the next mistle though. It’s a strain on your eyes, trying to spot the familiar shape of an inactivated mistle, and they water slightly, both due to the cold and the intensity of the white, but no matter how much you try, you can’t see anything. Nothing except the snow and the occasional Lost in the distance, roaming around.

Better to avoid them for now – you are kind of low on regenerations, your limbs feel sluggish and your ichor stock doesn’t look that good either. Basically, you’re the perfect target.

Running a hand over the fabric of your blood veil and tightening your grip on your weapon, you stumble on, feet sinking in the untainted snow, deeper and deeper, hoping not to encounter anything – or anyone. Its cold pierces through your shoes; you hadn’t known that revenants could get cold, but now you really wish you hadn’t found out.

Your teeth clatter against one another as you make your way through the relentless white. It could be pretty – the reddish sunrise _(or sunset? Everything looked the same)_ this far up _,_ the way the ice crystallized, creating patterns you hadn’t seen in years, the clean feel of the air despite the miasma.

Every step that you take feels more exhausting than the last, weighing you down. The white makes your head spin, overpowering your senses.

It couldn’t be that hard to find a single mistle, right?

Apparently yes, it was that hard to find a single mistle.

Your feet feel way too heavy, your blood veil is dragging behind you, halfway frozen, a burden more than anything else, and your eyes are drooping badly. Almost falling over a small heap of snow on the ground, your tired eyes spot a small alcove in the wall, barely big enough for a person to fit in. 

Bracing your hand against the wall _(it’s freezing cold; just about everything else here)_ you squeeze into it. It’s only slightly warmer than outside, but at least the wind isn’t tugging at your hair and clothes anymore, pushing you around like a rag doll.

In the frozen surface in front of yourself you catch a glimpse of your face. Your hair is tousled and sticking up at weird angles, your face paler than usual, all colour gone and instead replaced with a blue tinge. It’s a pitiful sight; you’re glad your companions aren’t there to see you like this.

Then again, you probably wouldn’t be in this predicament if someone, anyone, was with you. It’s like you’re in a daze – your head swims in blues and whites, tilted to the side and resting against the cold wall, feeling like ice.

You’d catch up to the others in a bit; first, you had to rest.

Surely you’d feel better after that.

* * *

You certainly don’t feel rested the next time you wake up.

Actually, you feel pretty much nothing. Every part of your body feels numb, frozen to the point of no return. You try moving, but nothing happens, nothing but the crackling of breaking ice. Ice, or maybe your bones? It feels as if any sudden movement might snap them in half.

At first you don’t understand what’s gotten you to wake up, but then you notice shadows in front of you. The Lost?

Your fingers curl around the hilt of your weapon, but that’s all you can manage. They hurt; your head hurts, basically everything does. It’s so cold that it burns.

Even more alarming than the shadows are the voices, though. Loud and familiar and _the Lost don’t talk, do they?_ Your mouth moves on its own, but no sound comes out, nothing but a pathetic groan.

It’s enough.

A person appears in front of you; tall, broad-shouldered and with a relieved expression. “Louis,” the agitated redhead yells, turning slightly away from you, “over here!” Your unfocused eyes try to stay on Yakumo’s form, but they drift away more often than not, watching the snow instead. “Can you walk?” He asks you, waiting for a reaction.

Trying to nod, you can feel your joints popping. Well, at least the beginnings of the nod are there.

Yakumo shoots you a disbelieving look, crossing his arms in front of his body. “Sure,” he says, and the doubt in his voice is unmistakeable. He shakes his head a little, ramming his sword into the ground next to him and crouching down to match your height. The light from outside the alcove illuminates him, making him shine slightly. He’s blocking the entire entrance.

Footsteps scrunching in the snow behind him. You can’t see who it is, but you assume it’s Louis. Who else would it be? He isn’t saying anything, surprisingly.

In front of you, Yakumo is reaching out, pulling you closer to him and cradling you in his arms. They feel hot against your frozen body, and you sigh involuntarily. He cracks a grin, his eyes narrowing in concentration as to not bump against the low ceiling. “How long have ya been in there? You’re cold as hell.”

Now that you’re out in the open, pressed tightly against Yakumo’s chest and savouring the heat that radiates off of him, you squint against the sudden light. Louis is right beside you, watching with worried eyes, Yakumo’s greatsword _(when had he picked that up?)_ is in his left hand. “You shouldn’t speak unless you have to,” he answers on your behalf, shooting Yakumo a sharp glance.

The redhead shrugs. “Guess it doesn’t matter that much either way. You can talk once we’re back, alright?” His heartbeat, right next to your ear, is steady and calm.

Something doesn’t sit right with you, though. Your voice is scratchy when you speak up, nothing more than a whisper. “W-why are you in a bad mood?” Your speech is slurred, and you don’t know if it’s because your vocal cords are frozen or because you’re shivering so much.

Yakumo’s laugh rumbles on in your head, making you dizzy again. But even his laugh can’t hide the way his hands clutch your body tightly, almost painfully digging into your flesh.

Louis doesn’t seem all that amused. “I’m not in a bad mood,” he replies, frowning a little, “it’s just… you could have died. Why didn’t you take anyone with you?”

You try to shrug, but it’s half-hearted at best. “’m sorry,” you slur, breath shallow and head lolling to the side. It feels as if your lungs can’t process the air you’re trying to breathe in, and your mask isn’t helping. Your eyes are heavy.

It doesn’t go unnoticed. “We should get back as fast as possible,” Yakumo notes, stopping shortly to prop you up against a rock on the ground and taking off his jacket. When he’s done, he picks you up again as if you weigh nothing, draping the jacket over your body. It’s almost unbearably hot on your skin.

“You’re right,” Louis replies, eyes darting around the area, checking for any invading Lost. Then he addresses you, “And I’m sorry too. Somebody should’ve had your back.”

Snorting quietly, your voice is muffled by the jacket, hiding the lower half of your face. “Maybe it was me who fucked up for once. Let me have this, Louis.”

He sends you a strained smile, picking up his pace, acting as a vanguard. Yakumo is lagging behind, shielding you with his body as much as he can. His heartbeat is as calm as before, the only rhythm left in this world. Your own heartbeat feels weak in comparison, incredibly slow.

Your fingers and toes prickle, hurting ever so slightly. It’s not uncomfortable _(yet)_ but it makes you restless, makes you itch for something you can’t have. Not yet.

Head still swimming, you fall into a restless sleep, lulled into unconsciousness by the heat of the jacket and Yakumo’s arms beneath your body.

* * *

A warm hand is placed on your forehead. You groan, opening your eyes slightly.

Yellowish eyes stare right back at you. “Hello Io,” you greet her, your voice still raspy, trying to sit up. Your biceps hurt, the muscles there sore.

Io’s lips curve upwards into a soft smile. “Good morning, Successor. I hope you rested well and are feeling better now.”

You nod slightly, scrutinizing your surroundings. By the looks of it, you’re in the bedroom you claim your own, lying in the bed. Io is sitting on the floor next to it, her arms propped up on the mattress.

And – on a chair next to the desk is Mia, soundly asleep. Her chin is resting on her chest, arms crossed in front of her body and her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. On the desk there’s a pot of tea, still steaming, as well as three cups. Looking back to Io, you cock your head to the side. “How long was I out?”

She, too, tilts her head to the side, almost questioning. “Not for too long. I wanted to come get you but the others would not let me. I am very sorry for failing you like this, Successor.”

You shake your head slightly. Moving too much or too fast still hurts. “No, it’s fine. I’m glad you didn’t come. And I’m… sorry, for running out like that.” Pinching the bridge of your nose and then dropping your hands back into your lap, you heave a sigh. “Did I keep both of you up all night?”

Io hums quietly, the sound reverberating in the small room. Mia stirs in her sleep.

“No,” she finally answers, placing her warm hands over your own frostbitten ones. “Not Mia. You have good friends. It was hard to convince her to sleep.” You both watch her chest rise and then drop for a few moments, her breathing regular.

That’s something at least. Io’s skin is soft beneath your own. “Still, I’m sorry for worrying you like this,” you apologize, only drawing your hand away to scratch the back of your neck. Faintly, you can feel her eyes following you.

Still smiling, Io raises your hand to her face, pressing her cheek against it. “It’s not me you should apologize to, Successor. They were all worried.”

Brushing your hand against Io’s cheek, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed, feeling the cold wood beneath your feet. It’s a sudden change from the covers you were under just a moment ago, but it’s not as bad as it had been before. The wooden planks creak softly under your weight.

Just that is enough to make Mia jump up, eyes wide. “You’re awake!” She exclaims, looking oddly relieved. Rushing over to you she drops down on her knees next to Io, looking up at you. “Finally.”

You chuckle quietly. “I guess so. Thanks for taking care of me while I was out.”

Mia shakes her head, sighing deeply. “Obviously. You really didn’t look too good when you came in, and your pulse was really weak. Don’t scare us like that again, please.” It’s not really a plead, more of a request.

Nevertheless, you nod, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. It feels silken on your skin. “I won’t,” you promise, although both of you know that’s a lie _(it always is)._

It seems to satisfy her though, and that’s enough for you at the moment. Smiling softly, she gets back up, rubbing her back _(it must hurt, sleeping on a chair like that)_ and swiftly moves over to the desk.

You get up as well, offering Io your hand which she accepts with a grateful nod, letting you pull her up. You’re still stumbling a little, and Io has to support you from time to time, but it’s definitely getting better. With unsure footsteps, you follow Mia to the desk, watching as she lifts the teapot and pours the hot liquid in the cups. It almost seems like a work of art when she does it, all graceful and stuff.

She turns back around, watching Io and you with warm eyes and holding out two cups for each of you. “This will warm you, I promise.”

Grateful, you take the cup from her, and out of the corner of your eyes you can see Io do the same. It smells… flowery and sweet, a little like Io and Mia themselves. “Thank you,” you reply with such earnestness that it makes her blush a little. 

“It’s fine,” she waves you off, hiding the lower half of her face with her cup. “It’s the least I can do to repay you for everything that you’ve all done for me. I’m glad I was able to meet you.”

Suddenly, the door to your room is opened, and all three of you face the entryway, watching as Yakumo leans against the doorframe, laughing. “This a sobfest or something?” He asks, cocking his head to one side, eyes glistening with mischief. “If so, then I’ll get Louis. He’ll fit right in.”

A snort behind him. “Are you sure you’re not talking about yourself, Yakumo?” Behind Yakumo’s broad frame, Louis’ shock of brown hair is visible, pushing through.

Yakumo playfully punches him on the shoulder and Louis stumbles a little, although he quickly regains his footing, watching you with hawk-like eyes. “You look better,” he notes, taking in the three of you huddled up close to each other “I’m glad you’re awake again. We were really worried.”

It’s getting kind of claustrophobic in the small room, but it fills your heart with warmth – the kind that warms you from the outside as well. You don’t really know what to say to that, so you just stay quiet, hoping that your ears aren’t as red as they feel right now.

Before Louis can press on though, Mia sets down her cup on the table, soundly. “Okay, that’s enough for now.” She turns to you, pointing to the bed. “You need to rest. And don’t give me any of that stuff that you’re a revenant – you definitely need it. Leave the rest to us.” Mia ushers you to the bed, making you sit down.

Then, she turns to Yakumo and Louis, making motions for them to leave the room. Io watches her with curious eyes. “I’ll check up on you later, alright?” Not waiting for your approval, she takes her cup and swiftly moves out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Only Io and you are left. She makes motions to sit down on the chair, but you stop her with a shake of your head. “You don’t have to sit there,” you say, scratching the back of your neck. “If you don’t mind… can you, I don’t know, it probably sounds weird, but… can you lay down with me?”

She just smiles. “Of course, Successor.” Carefully, she takes your cup from you and places both her cup and yours on the table, waiting for you to get under the covers. Once you’re under them, she joins you, squeezing in beside you.

This bed definitely isn’t made for more than one person, but neither of you mind. Her body is warm against yours, the heat source that you had missed so fervently, her breath warm on your face. “Is this alright?” She whispers, raising her hand to run it through it your hair.

“It’s perfect,” you reply, sighing contentedly, pressing your face into her soft palm. And it really is. Exhaustion is finally catching up to you once again, making your body sluggish, but this time it’s not induced by the cold, but rather the warmth of another person beside you. You smile at her, closing your eyes.

Io next to you settles into the bed, making herself comfortable. The bedsheets rustle slightly, and then it’s quiet. Almost quiet; her breathing is soft against your ear. “Sleep well, Successor.”

If Io was there, you’d certainly sleep well.

If Io was there, you could sleep for an eternity.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been inspired by the fact that it just snowed where I live.
> 
> And also the fact that I’m currently farming the Successor of the Breath because I cant master my gifts any other way since I’m still overleveled and i dont wanna start ng+ just yet. 
> 
> honestly, i dont like this work. this felt as cheap as the season pass dlc
> 
> also, i still take requests. please, i just want something to do that isnt writing essays about empirism and rationalism


End file.
